Never Counting Regrets
by DrayMiaOnly
Summary: "You realized that you didn't take the cure for Bobby, but for you. You craved intimacy, but not specifically with him. And, maybe, that was the problem after all." *RYRO* T cause I felt like it.


**A/N:** um, to tell you the truth, I don't even remember when I wrote this :| I was reading some old journals and came across it, and so here it is...

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the X-Men. (I know, I'm shocked too, but I'll survive :P)

**Summary:** It's sort of a drabble. Rogue takes the treatment, but things don't turn out like she thought they would. Not even close.

**Warnings:** Nothing really, a bad word or two.

* * *

Bobby makes it clear that you shouldn't have given up your powers for him. That he didn't want that. In the end, he didn't even want you. When he needed someone, Kitty was there... touchable, all perky smiles and giggles. And, now, you can't simply take her place. Things never worked like that.

Not that you want to, anymore. You muse on how you didn't see it coming, but, truth is you did. Bobby had always been too bright for your eyes, so much that you had to squint. Until you decided that you don't mind the dark, it suits you better. You just aren't the happy-go-lucky cheer-leading kind of girl, and since when is that a crime?

The irony is, that you can't find it in yourself to be angry. You realized that you didn't take the cure for Bobby, but for you. You craved intimacy, but not specifically with _him_. And, maybe, that was the problem after all.

You wonder if it's possible, for people to mature in mere days. You feel it though, inside your very soul. You're, somehow, older than the 18 years you look.

It didn't make you _normal_, you think bitterly. Your powers made you a mutant, and now, without them, you're not exactly sure _what_ you are.

But you didn't belong with the X-Men anymore, so you left the Mansion. Not because you knew where to go next, but because you had an urge to find out.

Storm said you'll always belong with them, and you gratefully smiled because, sometimes, mainly when she's not a manipulator-of-the-weather/deadly-dangerous-if-you-provoke-her mutant, Ororo is the most noble _human being_ one can hope to meet in this life.

Logan told you to follow your instinct. Such a laconic advice, but, it's the best you'll ever hope to get for him, so you treasure it.

* * *

It's a few months later, and you feel more alone in this world than ever before.

Deep within the night, you walk in a street, having no idea where your final destination is.

A boy, that a third observer of the scene would describe as 'marginal'-'vagrant'-'terribly jarring to his surroundings', and other paraphernalia, bumps ungraciously into you.

Agitation. Instinctively defensive posture. Recognition. Rage.

"Of all the people in the fucking world!" you huff.

"It had to be you, _traitor_!" he snivels back.

"If it isn't the pot calling the kettle black!" you murmur, and internally scold yourself, because you shouldn't _care_, that some years before he abandon you.

Not _you_, damn it! The X-Men!

"Saint John!" you drawl the name deliberately, making sure to punctuate how much you despise saying it. "What a pleasure, it _isn't_, to see you again!" you continue with an openly fake joy.

"Ah, I can practically feel your love spreading it's _claws_ around me." the disgustingly familiar sarcasm makes both your hands clench to fists unconsciously.

You both stare, measuring the other, weighing the potential of a threat. To whom, and for what, you honestly can't remember.

Silences are like snowflakes, each and every one is unique and different than the other. This one was filled with repressed anger, muddled memories, and a dose of sultry curiosity.

But, as they say, curiosity killed the cat. And you're no Kitty-slutty-Pryde. You decide that you'd rather not know. Anything that concerns John will surely annoy you/infuriate you/get on your damn nerves.

"Well, it's been fun. We should do it again sometime. How 'bout never?" you ask, and resume your walking, deliberately shoving his shoulder with yours, as hard as you can.

You should have guessed he'd make a dash to grab you, the boy always had an unbeatable impulse to become entrenched in awkward situations.

"Silly Roguie. You thought it would be that easy?" he tsked disapprovingly, his mouth uncomfortably close to your ear.

"I'm not Rogue anymore." you say, and you mean it. You're not a mutant anymore, thus, "Rogue" doesn't exist. You pry your arm from his grip and look squarely in his eyes, as if to make your point.

Again, you start walking away, determined that you want nothing to do with the likes of him.

"Ah, _Marie_, then? Whatever." he shouts at you, and he's sounding like he's doing you a favor, by acknowledging you once had a real name.

"I'm not Marie either." you whisper to the nocturne sky; because you can't go back to being "Marie". Not after experiencing all these things "Marie" shouldn't have dealt with.

You hope he won't hear you. _Of course_, he does.

"And who are you?" he starts to walk to your direction, and you accelerate your pace. Because you're tired, of people asking you questions you don't have the answers for.

"I don't know." you spit bitterly, and, the part that pains you is that you're speaking your life's truth out loud and he's the _first_ one that hears it.

"Come with me. Let's go somewhere more private." he suggests as if he wants you to elaborate on your sayings, and it's just so cliché that it's not even funny, but you snort.

"Why?" you ask, and you could have sounded amused, if you had a plan, or somewhere -_anywhere_- else to be right now.

"Because I'm not sure if I'm John, Pyro, both, or someone else entirely." he says plainly, and you almost trip and fall, because you have stopped walking away from him, before your brain even had the time to pass said order, to that part inside your brain that controls movement.

You turn around slowly, almost expecting to find him chuckling that you're stupid enough to buy his shameless joke. But, he's looking at the ground, and it's such a humble act, for someone cocky as him, that you simply stare at his posture for a few moments.

You're beside him, though you don't remember moving, and you reach for his hand. And, when he tightens your hold on him, you flush him a smirk.

Because you don't know who you are, or who he is, or where you're both going... but, maybe, you can figured it all out... _together_.

* * *

**A/N:** huh? *nudges you* I know it's short, but I kinda like it... wha' do you think?

Thank you for reading, and if you leave a review it'll be awesome... If you don't, well, I'll see ya in another fic or something *shrugs*


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